


The Girl in the Café

by Moosegirl6



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Café, Coffee Shop, F/M, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9057565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moosegirl6/pseuds/Moosegirl6
Summary: This is just a oneshot coffee shop AU. Based on the song Charlie Chaplin by Minor Souls.





	

The shop had been busy today, the bell over the door ringing non-stop and the coffee-machine working tirelessly. It was quarter to five before I even saw her properly through the crowds, even though she was still in the middle of three orders of cappuccinos.

For some reason, today had been a cappuccino day. There was a kerfuffle every few minutes over whose drink was whose, and I tried not to laugh when the customers got all blustered and impatient, how her smile never wavered and her manners never slipped.

The shop closed at seven, but usually it was empty by six, and I still found it hard to talk to her.

It shouldn’t be that hard. It really shouldn’t. I am good at talking to people, I know how to make them laugh, what makes them tick. I stand in front of crowds of people on most nights, making a fool of myself and being rewarded with laughter, but when I stand in front of her my voice disappears.

She was so beautiful.

That smile, so wide for customers, and so relaxed for friends, and then for me just a little grin.

But I put everything into that grin. A whole day spent working up to that last hour when the shop was mostly empty and I can try and make her laugh. The drinks she makes in that time are the best I have all day. I’m sure she puts something extra in them.

Extra cream, extra caffeine, extra love.

Something that makes me warm and able to look her in the eyes.

She has these big eyes, green like the sign over the door, and hair that twirls around her as she darts about the counter.

She wears the same apron every day, but a new dress underneath.   
  
Sometimes green so she matches this little world of hers, but they’re sometimes so floral I am tempted to pull her outside and into the sunshine and find a field, a meadow of flowers, to sit her down in, just to see.

Just to make sure that she isn’t one of those delicate bursts of colour.

Because she bursts into my line of vision in a vision of red and blue and orange and yellow. I have never seen her in black but I’m sure she would manage to give even that shade life.

The theatre is across the street, and once or twice I have left leaflets for my show accidentally-on purpose on the table, but I don’t think she has ever come.

That’s okay, though. Because I want to look at her more than I want to have her watch me.

But if she could notice me, if she could remember my name, well, that would be everything.

I’m sure we are meant to be.

I’m not sure that she knows this, but maybe when she grins at me she’s thinking about me, about where I’ve been before, about why I wasn’t already in her life.

It took me almost three weeks to kiss her.

It was light and quick and she smiled widely afterwards, I think. I’m not sure though because I had pulled my hood up and stepped out into the rain.

She had been talking non-stop about how lovely the weather was, how the rain made everything brighter and how desperately the flowers had been needing it.

“I mean, look at them!” she waved a hand dramatically to the courtyard out the back where pots of drooping flowers covered every surface.

I glanced at them, but then looked back at her looking at them. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“It’s shameful. I should definitely look after them better, but I always just forget about them. My sister’s a florist,” She turned back to me suddenly, “and she is excellent at all horticulturalist things, but I can’t really be bothered with it.”

“That’s a bit ironic isn’t it? All things considered.” I smiled.

“Because of the shop, you mean?” She tilted her head, grinning again.

I nodded. I didn’t want to say anything that would stop that grin.

“That’s not because I like flowers. That’s for my mum. Her name was Rose.”

Her smile turned sad, and as much as I wanted her to tell me everything, all about her mum and her family, why she opened the shop in the first place, I didn’t want her to be sad. So instead I asked,

“What’s your name?”

She blinked quickly and then laughed, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m Lily!” She held out a hand which made me laugh, but I still shook it. “And you?”

“I’m James.”

She grinned again and I could have sworn that it was everything I needed.

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” She said quietly, leaning forwards across the table.

She looked at me expectantly and I leaned towards her. Her head tilted and her lips looked so soft.

I felt her gasp as I pressed my mouth to hers, so I pulled back quickly.

She looked nothing but surprised, and I was suddenly certain I had made a mistake. I stood up quickly, and she looked a little upset.

“I’m sorry.” I said quickly, dropping a note on the table. Money, but also a piece of paper with a number on it.

The bell rang as I left the shop. I looked back before I turned the corner to my hotel, and saw she had the piece of paper in her hand, the money left on the table.

I could have sworn she was smiling.

And that smile, well. That’s all I need.


End file.
